


The Girl at the Front Desk

by SilentWinter



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:00:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21568021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentWinter/pseuds/SilentWinter
Summary: When Bucky refuses to allow himself to even have a crush on the receptionist at Stark Industries, Steve and Sam take matters into their own hands. And, as it turns out, they have much more in common than he ever thought possible.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 6
Kudos: 110





	The Girl at the Front Desk

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick one-shot based on this idea that popped into my head. I love writing the Rogers/Barnes/Wilson trio! :)

“Have a good day, Sergeant Barnes,” she said with a wide smile. “You too, Sam.”

Sam winked and gave a two-finger salute as he and Bucky walked through the lobby to the elevator in silence. Once they got in the elevator, Sam finally broke the silence with a sigh and a quick nudge to Bucky’s side. “So, when are you gonna let her call you ‘Bucky?’”

“Who?” Bucky asked, not looking up from the floor. It was a stupid question on both sides. A girl like that wouldn’t dare to be interested in a guy like him.

Sam rolled his eyes, “You know damn well who I’m talking about. Cute girl, front desk, calls you ‘Sergeant Barnes’ even though she’s been working here longer than you have - you know, that one?”

“The receptionist?”

Sam feigned a pain in his chest. “Harsh, Barnes. She gives you doe eyes every time you come in,” he said.

Bucky shrugged, “Not interested.”

Sam didn’t let the conversation die as they exited onto their floor. “So, what kind of girl are you interested in?”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, you know,” he began sarcastically, “brooding and sad. Probably an ex or current assassin with blood on her hands - one of which preferably made of metal.”

“Shut up.”

“As a matter of fact, I hope two of her limbs are metal and a third is made out of Soviet-era machinery and she fantasizes about killing me in my sleep.”

“Has your therapist covered projection yet? Because that was a whole lot of it,” Sam muttered.

Bucky was thankful to have reached the conference room, where Steve was already briefing the team on their next mission and work up. He sat down near the back, not needing to listen to brief. His place was decided: he, Steve, and Sam would lead the charge. Nothing ever changed there.

His eyes trained on a notch in the wooden table as his mind began to drift. He wondered if she really did smile just for him each day; if was privy to their missions; if she waited quietly for news of their safe return — probably not. She was only the receptionist, after all.

“Buck?” Steve called, snapping his attention back to the front. “Did you hear that?”

“Yep.”

“Rest up because we’re heading out at 0200.”

“Got it,” he grunted.

With that, the meeting adjourned and it was only Steve, Bucky, and Sam still sitting at the table. Steve and Sam shared a look before Sam smirked. “Barnes, you mind runnin’ down for coffee?”

Bucky grimaced, “Yes, I do.”

Steve looked at him with pleading eyes, “Please, Buck? It’s just downstairs. We’ll meet you in the lobby and then we can workout.”

“I thought you said, ‘rest up,’” Bucky replied. “Coffee and sparring or running or whatever the hell it is you want to do is not —“

“C’mon, Barnes,” Sam interrupted with a smug grin, “there’s no one else who can keep coffee warm like you can.”

Bucky glared at him. “Have I told you that I hate you today?”

“Twice,” Sam chuckled, “which means we’re down from our usual quota of four before lunch.”

“Well, I hate you.” He looked up at both of his friends, trying to find a sign that they’d just leave him alone. There wasn’t one. He wasn’t going to win. “Three black coffees then?”

“Make that two and one of those lattes,” Steve corrected.

“A latte?” Bucky scoffed

Steve shrugged, “I can drink girly coffee and save the world from evil.”

“You got it, punk.” 

Thirty minutes later, Bucky found himself sitting annoyingly close to a potted tree in the reception area with a tray of coffee. He fired a quick text to Steve asking where he and Sam were and jammed it back into his jacket pocket. He scanned the lobby. No sign of either of them.

His roaming gaze landed on the front desk, where the receptionist was directing a pair of businessmen toward the elevator. She was visibly uncomfortable as one of them leaned forward over the counter, but she hid it well. She laughed and looked around, briefly catching his eye before looking away. 

His fist clenched tightly as he watched them walk away, their heads knitted together in whispered conversation about her beauty. He looked at her again, her eyes gracefully closed as she took a deep breath. When she opened her eyes, she was staring directly at him and his breath hitched. Then, just as quickly as it happened, she turned back to her computer.

He fidgeted with his phone — the last thing he wanted to seem was bothered. He sent both Sam and Steve a text and rolled his eyes as he saw the read receipts return.

“Did you need help with something, Sergeant Barnes?” She called softly from the desk, startling him.

Panicked, he shook his head. Then, he shrugged. Then, he shook his head again. She stifled a laugh and stood up, walking around the counter toward him.

He’d never seen her any other way than sitting at her desk for those brief moments every morning. He couldn’t help but notice the sultry, yet wholly unaware, way that her hips swayed. The way her jeans clung to her form and the sweater she was wearing bared her shoulder. He felt immediate embarrassment over the fact that he was blushing over a revealed shoulder. He’d worked with women who’d worn less. 

When she was finally standing in front of him, he felt uncharacteristically small. “Are you sure?” she asked jokingly, her delicate hands on her hips like a teacher scrutinizing a child. It was fitting as he felt just as clueless and clumsy as a second grader.

When he finally realized that she was waiting for his answer, he asked the first idiotic question that came to mind. “Have you seen Steve and Sam?”

Her face fell in the most heartbreaking way, but only for a moment before it rearranged itself into a polite smile. “They left about twenty minutes ago.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” she shrugged, “they were in a bit of a hurry.” 

It all began to click in Bucky’s brain and the brief rage that bubbles under the surface was quickly replaced with amusement. “Those bastards,” he chuckled. He looked at her and noticed how awkward she’d become, writhing her small hands as though she’d never left her desk before.

“I-I can wait with you for them to come back, if you want? I’m on lunch. Or I can page them?” she offered. “Or leave? I can leave.”

He studied her for what must have been a moment too long because she quickly turned around and started toward the front door. “Wait!” he pleaded, resisting the urge to grab her arm. “Do you like coffee?” 

She nodded slowly and sat in the armchair next to him. “I do.” Her voice was quieter and less confident than it had been only seconds before. Pulling down her sleeves over her hands, she dimpled, “What’ve you got to offer?”

He turned toward the coffee tray and smirked, “Black or girly?”

She laughed, “Girly. Definitely girly.”

He handed her the cup and tried his best to smile, which he was sure was more of a grimace. She sipped it quietly as he studied her and mentally kicked himself for never thinking to look at her before. Because, if he had ever looked at her for longer than three seconds, he would’ve seen how brightly her eyes shone in the sterile lobby and how her hair seemed to radiate sunlight, even though they were trapped under the halogen lights of the Stark Industries building. In fact, if he had looked at her for longer than three seconds he would’ve noticed the dim blue light blinking underneath the white sleeve of her sweater. 

As though she had felt his eyes, she shifted and put her cup in the table in front of her. Without a word, she lifted her right arm and pulled the sleeve up, exposing her soft flesh that was marred by heavy scars. She looked at him for a moment before tucking her nails into the crook of her arm and, to his surprise, peeled the skin downwards. 

Beneath her skin was a maze of wires and gears that pulsated and moved similar to the muscle of a real arm. She took a deep breath and held it out to him, looking away as though she couldn’t stomach the sight. If he didn’t know any better, he could’ve sworn that her eyes were shining with tears. When he studied the mechanisms more closely, he realized that one of the gears was branded with a Stark Industries label.

He didn’t dare ask why.

He flexed his own metal hand, attracting her gaze as it made the telltale sounds of movement. She watched him with curiosity as he slowly reached over. As gently as he could muster, he pulled the skin back over the metalwork, pressing it softly into place before covering it with her sweater once more.

With a sad smile, she retreated from him and grabbed her coffee again, taking a polite sip and checking her watch. She stood up and smoothed her jeans. “Be safe out there, Sergeant Barnes,” she said quietly before starting toward her desk.

At the mention of their upcoming mission, he froze. Perhaps he’d been right all along. He stood up and followed her, catching her hand before she could sit down. “Hey,” he said quickly, trying to avoid the confused look on her face when she glanced at their joined hands, “it’s Bucky.”

She bit her lip and nodded, squeezing his hand slightly, “Be safe out there, Bucky.”


End file.
